


Paradoxes and Contradictions

by BlueBastard



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Izaya Being Izaya, Looking for Beta Readers, Reader-Insert, Time Travel, it's minimal tho, yes time travel will be a thing SPOILER ALERT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBastard/pseuds/BlueBastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was strange, to say the least.  As you walked the streets of this foreign city it dawned on you that this place was not very different from your home town, despite the rumours you'd come to investigate. Being an online vlogger, your knew your followers depended on you to amaze and excite them with interesting stories. Beneath it's normal exterior, Ikebukuro held something extraordinary. That's why you'd come here after all –to uncover the mysteries of this strange place and its residents. After spending only a short time among the people here, you'd learned so much already.<br/>You sighed, recounting the stories you'd managed to collect so far. The Black Rider, the Awakusu group's activities and more. Most recently, it was a strange string of murders which left the victims liquidized. All of these rumours were right up your alley. It was up to you now to figure out what was true and what was only hearsay. You just hoped you hadn't traveled half way across the world for nothing. </p><p>(Izaya Orihara/F!Reader)</p><p>Author is trying their hand at time travel, so things might get very confusing! RATING MAY CHANGE IN THE FUTURE AND TAGS WILL BE ADDED AS WE GO. This is 100% an experiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Motivation is What Gets You Started, Dedication Requires Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Durarara!! fic in a long, long time! I hope you enjoy. The first chapter is just setting the mood a little, testing the waters and seeing if people are interested in this story. If not, I might not bother continuing, I'm sorry. This is going to be a very heavy piece for me to write and if there's no one reading it, I just can't afford to waste time on it.

The sun broke through the clouds above as you adjusted the small microphone on your blouse. This was good: some sunlight would make for excellent natural lighting for the video. Your camera lady, Dido, was scoping out the park while you got ready for the first take. She needed to make sure the shot was clear, or ask people if they'd be alright with them being in the shot. Needless to say, most people chose to avoid you. Even after living here for nearly 3 months, you were still a foreigner and a new face to most people. They didn't trust you, making your job very difficult.  
Dido prepared the tripod and lined up the shot while you took out your personal script and skimmed over it for the last time. She waited patiently for you to finish reading, then flipped open the camera pannel. “You ready?” she asked.  
“Yeah, just a sec.” After making sure you looked presentable and smoothing out your shirt, you gave her a quick nod. Dido raised three fingers and slowly counted them down. When she hit one, you took a deep breath and conjured a dazzling smile.

“ _Good morning_ , ladies and gentlemen, it's (Y/n) again! If you follow me on Twitter you might already know this, but Dido and I are in Japan right now. That's right! We are in the entertainment district of Tokyo called 'Ikebukuro' to investigate several _unnerving_ rumours that have been going around here. Before we get into the good stuff, let's provide some context first.  
For the past 3 months, we've _lived and breathed_ Ikebukuro and in that time we've seen some crazy shit, alright? There's been colour gangs, we've witnessed actual street fights and, I-shit-you-not, flying vending machines are kind of a natural thing in these parts!  
None of that compares, however, to the story of the Black Rider. It's a local legend that speaks of a biker in black, who rides around on a motorcycle that makes no sound and has no head or tail light to speak of. Pretty weird, right? It gets better, though. You see, this biker has another thing going for them,” you paused for dramatic effect, “...they're headless.”

“And cut!” Dido announced, dramatically mimicking the motion of a clapperboard with her arms. 

Bingo. That was one solid performance. You smirked triumphantly. Most people would call you a natural entertainer, a social butterfly. The charisma with which you presented your show was unparalleled. An act of course, but one you had down to an art. Dido would argue that it was a part of you, that the act was more than just a show you put on for the camera. You weren't as convinced, but maybe it was true. You excelled at reading situations after all, maybe being able to adapt was just who you were. It was certainly usefull for a small-time internet celeb like yourself. 

“Good take, chief. Wanna do it again from another angle? I think we'd get a cool effect if we get a moving shot that glides over you, with the traffic in the back.”  
Before you could answer, she was already on the move. Dear old Dido, always asking without expecting a reply. Sure, she called you 'chief,' but most of the time she was the one taking charge when it came to filming the actual videos. Not that you'd disagree –it was a good idea. You didn't choose her as your partner so you could disregard whatever she says, especially when she was kind of a big movie nerd. So, you let her do her thing. After setting up the new angle, Dido pulled a piece of chalk from her hoodie and drew an 'x' on the ground where she wanted you to stand. “Ready when you are, chief.”  
You chuckled, rolling your shoulders to stretch your neck. If Dido decided to get creative with the footage, this was going to be a very long day. No matter --you had plenty of spunk to spare. “I'm always ready, love.”

-*-

The city was cast in a golden glow as the sun made its exit from the stage. Filming had wrapped up nicely for today, but you were not satisfied. Something gnawed at you while you stared out the window of the diner, observing the people that passed by. 3 months of research, and not a single encounter with the Black Rider. Maybe you were wrong, maybe you were never going to find them and no one would ever know the truth.  
Dido managed to barely tear herself away from the delicious stack of pancakes before her and spoke, interrupting your train of thought. “We'll get them, (Y/n), I'm sure of it.”  
Turning to face her, you felt a twinge of guilt creep up on you. “Come on, D. How can you be? We have nothing! I feel like we're lying to our followers,” you sighed, poking at your untouched salad with your fork. _Why did I even order this? I can't even manage a single bite._ “Maybe we should, I don't know, postpone the video for another month or so. That wa-”  
“Absolutely not,” Dido slammed her fork down on the table with a surprising amount of force for a girl her size. She was a sweet girl. So sweet even, that hearing her raise her voice like that was a very unusual occurrence. A few alarmed customers turned their heads in your direction. You sunk back into your seat like a child that had just been scolded. “We've run out of back-up videos already, if we don't start editing this footage tomorrow we're gonna fall behind on schedule.” She returned her attention to her food and shoveled the last pieces into her mouth rather ungracefully. “You need to have a little more faith, (Y/n),” Dido mumbled out mid-chew. Her chalk-stained fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the table, a smile forming on her lips. “Besides, I have a good feeling about tonight. We can do this.”  
“Okay. Okay, maybe you're right. I'll believe it when I see it, though.”

-*-

And so you did. It happened so fast, if you had blinked you would have missed it.

On your way home, Dido had insisted on lingering around a sushi place for some reason. She seemed particularly interested in the Russian man waving flyers in your face. Why, you could not imagine. “Welcome back! Pretty lady wants sushi, yes?” the man exclaimed, closing the distance between you. “Is very good for you! Make you strong!”  
Somehow you'd managed to squeeze yourself away from the one-man-crowd and lightly tugged at your friend's sleeve. “Uh, maybe some other time. D, let's get out here, please?”

It was just a restaurant, nothing special. Dido started striking up a conversation when it happened. The hairs in the back of your neck stood on end as a stange sensation rushed over you. Something moved you and before you even realized it, you were headed towards the adjacent highway. In the distance you could still hear the Russian man yell something. _'Is fine! You come back any time! I give you special again!'_ That's when you saw it. No lights, no sound. Just black smoke and mystery in the air. The clouded biker sped by silently. “The Black Rider,” you whispered to yourself. Your feet were anchored to the ground and all time seemed to slow down. _So you are real._ Before you could register what had happened, it was over. And you had no footage to prove it. It was exactly what you were looking for, however: motivation.

-*-

That night you couldn't sleep even if you tried. After hours of tossing and turning in your bed you'd decided you had enough and got up. If you needed a reason to go on doing this, life had just smacked you square in the face with it. You'd seen the Rider. In the flesh. If you couldn't get some rest, you might as well make good use of your time and get shit done.  
Moving through the apartment as quietly as possible, you made your way to the living room and started up your laptop. You may not have gotten any footage from your encounter, but you could at least write down the details on your blog. Dido was sleeping in the other room, so you took extra care to be quiet. Gently tapping away at your keyboard, you tried your best to write down in words what you'd experienced. It was harder than you thought. Your followers had no idea how long you'd been waiting for something, _anything_ to make this trip worth while. Would they understand?  
Pushing all thoughts of doubt aside, you wrote your article. By the time you were finished, the sun had broken through the curtains behind you and shone on your computer screen. A few adjustments later, you posted it online. “There we go,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. A fitting teaser for the video to come.  
You yawned. It had been a while since you'd pulled an all-nighter but you felt surprisingly accomplished. Giving in to the habit, you waited a few moments before refreshing the page and checking the hits. It was going well --trending on the paranormal forums already. Satisfied with your work, you felt last night's exhaustion creep up on you. “Time for a nap,” you announced to yourself and allowed the gentle whirring of your laptop ventilation system to lull you to sleep.

-*-

You awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and a gentle tap on the back. “Good morning, sleepy-head.” Dido gently placed down your favourite mug in front of you with a smile, then glided towards the bathroom. You took the cup with both hands and inhaled the aroma. God, that woman was a saint. She must have realized you'd been up all night.  
You moved from the couch to the breakfast counter and decided to make some French toast for the both of you. It was like this every day. Dido woke you up, and you made breakfast while she did her morning routine. After that she usually went out and the bathroom was all yours.  
You gently flipped the toast with a spatula and turned on the TV with the remote. Like every other morning, you checked the news for any developments. So far it seemed not much had happened on the Black Rider front --the news was covering those strange deaths again.

Dido emerged from the bathroom, squeaky clean and fresh, a towel draped loosely over her shoulders. “Do they know what liquidized them yet?” she asked, sitting down on the stool across from you as you prepared her a plate. Wasting no time at all, Dido dug in like the hungry little monster she was. That woman had a bottomless pit for a stomach.  
You took your seat and did the same, if not in a more graceful manner. “Nope, seems not. My guess is a really potent acid or something. Carborane superacid, maybe?”  
The other girl hummed somewhat dismissively: she obviously didn't think the same thing. She reached out into her bag by the counter and pulled out a small note book. In it, she scribbled down the details of the news report: a habit you both had gotten into when something strange was afoot.  
“Dude, that's not what we're here for. The Black Rider is our priority.”  
“I know, I know. Our leads are dead on that one, though. Why not explore our options?”  
“Weren't you the one telling me to have more faith yesterday? Our leads aren't dead!”  
“Really? Because as far as I know, the only thing we've got to go on is the direction they _might_ have headed last night.”  
“Damnit,” you sighed out. As much as you'd hate to admit it, she was right. You had no licence plate number, no solid identification, heck you weren't even sure what you had seen was in fact the Black Rider! “Just make sure this stupid murder case doesn't take up all your time alright?”  
“Deal-io, chief!”  
“ _Deal-io?_ My God, I'm so glad I write my own scripts.”  
Your friend feigned a hurt expression, dramatically putting the palm of her hand flat against her chest. “How dare you, sir, I'm a literary genius!”

-*-

The rest of the morning went slow. After breakfast, Dido headed out. Apparently, she had a date. No surprise there, that woman was gorgeous! Makes you wonder why she always insisted on working behind the scenes. There was no need to be jealous, however, because you had a date yourself: with the internet! --after your shower of course.  
Once you were all nice and clean you sat back down at your pc and checked your personal email. Not much going on there, just the daily mails from your subscriptions and--

>   
>  **From:** no-reply@chattyco.org  
>  **Subject:** Kanra has invited you their chatroom!
> 
> Hiya! Kanra has invited you to join their private chatroom. Use the link below with the following password to create your free account and start chatting. We hope you enjoy using Chattyco! 
> 
> https://kanrahosts.chattyco.com
> 
>  **PASSWORD**
> 
> fAttytuna
> 
> Message from Kanra:  
> “Hello (Y/n)(L/n)! I know about the Black Rider, if you're interested. ;D I promise you won't be disappointed. Hope to see you in my chat room soon! Bye-bye!”
> 
> Want to make your own chatroom? Be sure to visit our website. To unsubscribe from this mailing list, click here.

A fluke. There was no way this was legit. You'd expected emails like this to roll in since you put that blog post online –on your business account, that is. This person, whoever they were, had used your personal email. This information was not open to the public --you'd made damn sure of that. If they had managed to uncover this, maybe they were telling the truth about the Rider.  
Was there any harm in amusing this person? They were promising you a solid lead when you had none. Best case scenario, you gain information on the Rider, worst case, nothing happens.

The choice seems obvious.


	2. Obession Can Lead to All Kinds of Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your chat with Kanra is...interesting, to say the least. She says a man in Shinjuku might have the answers you're looking for. Meanwhile, Dido seems distracted by the case of the liquidized murder victims and other nonsense. Who do you put your trust in? Your friend who doesn't seem interested in the Rider in the slightest, or the mysterious informant who is promising you the deal of a life-time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaah! It's 1:30 in the morning, forgive me if I've missed a couple of mistakes. Feel free to point them out. :D 
> 
> Whelp, see you in the notes at the end! Enjoy!

_Welcome to Chattico.com!_  
_Please refrain from giving out personal information to the chat._  
_Server: Private_N°05486_  
_\--Kanra has entered the chatroom--_

**Kanra: Good afternoon! Sooooo~ How's everyone been? Xx**

**Tarō Tanaka: Oh hi, Kanra. Can't complain, I guess. It's been quiet on my side.**

**Setton: Good evening. Yeah, it's the same for me.**

_\--Saika has entered the chatroom--_

**Kanra: Really?!! How boring~! If you're not going to ask about me, I'll just tell you! I've had a very eventful morning!**

**Bakyura: Nobody cares. :)**

**Kanra: How rude, Bakyura~! I bet you're just mad because you don't have any friends to do fun stuff with! ;) Xx**

**Bakyura: WHAT THE ****?!  
Bakyura: You're the one who has no friends Kanra! **

**Saika: Bakyura please calm yourself. Hello everyone, by the way.**

_\--Bokujin has entered the chatroom--_

**Bakyura: Huh? Who's the new guy?**

**Setton: How are you?**

**Tarō Tanaka: Hello? Bokujin?**

**Kanra: Hoi hoi! A new friend to talk to maybe? Xx**

Your hands felt sweaty: you blamed the anticipation. It had taken you hours to make up your mind about the whole chat room situation, and now you couldn't even think of what to say. You'd expected to just find Kanra, not a whole bunch of people you didn't know or trusted. This was a bad idea, you convinced yourself. When Dido got home, you were just going to go out and try to find the Rider on your own. Just before you could log off, a message appeared on screen. 

_\--Kanra has sent you a private message, type /w to reply--_

When you saw that, you cursed yourself for even thinking about crawling back. This was it. After 3 months of staring at a brick wall, something was finally happening. Hesitantly, you followed the commands on screen. A new window popped up, startling you. Damn your nerves. 

**Kanra: Is that you, (Y/n)-chan~? :D**

**Bokujin: Yes. You say you have infromation on the BR?**

**Kanra: No friendly 'hello' first? :( Hahaha! How rude! :P**

**Bokujin: I don't want to waste your time, or mine for that matter.**

**Kanra: That's fair! :) Truth be told, I don't know much about the Rider...  
Kanra: ...but I know someone who does. It's a Shinjuku informant. He's expensive, but I know he can help you~ :D**

**Bokujin: I don't care what it'll cost me...I need to know. Who is he and where can I find him?**

And that was all Izaya wanted to hear. A sly smirk graced his lips as he typed and lied away at his desktop. He had you exactly where he wanted you now. There was nothing more beautiful than a desperate soul. From the hundreds of videos you had posted to Youtube, he had already guessed that your online persona was very different from your actual personality, but talking to you now had been eye-opening. You were positively at the end of your rope. Just the way he liked you: frantic and determined. A dangerous, unstable combination that Izaya adored in humans.  


When he'd first bumped into you online, he'd brushed you off as another dime-a-dozen girl. And for a while, that's exactly what you were. Until last night, that is. Izaya had stumbled across your blog on accident, looking into recent sightings of Celty. The desperation and facination in your words had rubbed off on him: you'd reminded him of something extraordinary. On your own, it would have taken you months before you had another lead, but what if someone were to poke you? Provoke you. How far would you be willing to go to uncover the truth?  


He reveled at the thought. It would be bad for business if you unmasked Celty, of course, so Izaya had to be careful not to reveal too much. He'd slowly feed you information, just enough to sate your curiosity –then pull the rug out from under you. 

**Kanra: Be in Shinjuku City tomorrow at 8AM. He'll find you ;) Xx**

**Bokujin: What do I need to know about him?**

**Kanra: Wellllll~ ;)**

_\--Kanra is typing...--_

-*-

Later that afternoon, you heard house keys jingle against the lock, informing you of Dido's return. As she walked into the room, you quickly closed your laptop. “Had a nice date?” you asked, hoping she would take the conversation from there so you wouldn't have to go into detail about your little chat room adventure. This was _your lead._ As much as you wanted to include her, you felt like Dido didn't hold the same passion as you did on the subject.  
“Meh,” she shrugged, placing down her camera on the coffee table.“I ditched him halfway though the noon, went out making filler-shots for the next video instead.”  
“Damn, that bad huh?”  
“Yup.” She slid your laptop closer. You tensed. For a moment, you had almost grabbed it from her, but it seemed she was only hooking up her camera. “The battery is dead, so we best leave it over-night.” What was wrong with you? Why didn't you trust her all of a sudden? She was your partner! “Anyway, what did you do today?” she asked. There it was again, that twinge of distrust. You shook it off: if there was anyone in this world you trusted with your life, it was Dido. Still...  
“Oh nothing much...” you lied. “Wanna order take-out tonight?”

-*-

You felt bad for keeping Dido out of the loop, but you had to make sure this Orihara Izaya wasn't going to lead you on some wild goose chase.

The next morning you broke routine. Instead of waiting for Dido to wake you up, you got up nice and early, showered and had some instant Ramen for breakfast. Not exactly a balanced diet, but hey, you were in a hurry. Before dashing out the front door, you snatched Dido's camera. You'd be back before she needed it anyway. As long as you didn't mess with the settings (she'd explicitly forbid you from doing that) you were good. You'd even left a note! No harm done, right? 

On your way out the door, you felt your gut clenching. You couldn't decide if it was excitement or something else entirely. As you made your way towards the station, you noticed your grip on your purse had tightened as well. It wasn't because you were afraid someone might snatch it, no, you felt guilty. The camera was safely hidden in your shoulder bag, the lense poking out from under the lid –something you'd done with a clear purpose. If there was one thing you hated, it was being filmed without your permission, and yet that was exactly what you were going to do to this Orihara character. Did that make you a hypocrite? Probably. However, you wanted to make sure you didn't miss anything during the conversation. If what Kanra had told you was true, you needed to be on your toes around this guy. Sure, it went against your morals, but in the persuit of knowledge and truth you were willing to make an exception.  


During the train ride to Shinjuku, you took the camera out of the bag and turned it on: best to do this now and avoid him noticing later. For a second you considered going back and getting Dido, but Kanra was adamant you meet this guy alone. There was just no other way.  
Just as your stop was coming up, you stuffed the camera back in your bag, making sure the lense had somewhat of a clear shot. You stepped out of the compartment onto the busy platform and instantly became engulfed in the crowd. It was amazing how a single person could get lost in this sea of pedestrians. It was almost frightening, in a sense.With seemingly no effort at all, the people around you to guided you to the exit. All you had to do was follow the stream.

Once outside, the crowd dispersed, all headed their own way. All but one: you were nailed in place. Something felt wrong. No, not wrong –different. This feeling was familiar to you: a dreadful sense of paranoia that only came when you were being watched. There was no doubt about it. You were about to turn back when you spotted the culprit. A stranger across the street, with a smile as sly as fox, stared at you intently. For a while, all you could see were those dark, playful eyes taunting you. This was him, wasn't it? As you became aware of what was happening, you started to notice the rest of his appearance. He was strangely handsome, in an ordinary way. It was hard to explain. If this was any other day, you would have passed him without a second thought, but today –it was like he _wanted_ you to see him. Like he wanted you to notice his fur-lined coat and casual posture.  


You couldn't move. The strangest sensation, not unlike what you'd felt when you'd seen the Black Rider two days ago, creeped up on you. It was the thrill of the chase, the fear of the unknown and an undeniable sense of determination.

Before you knew it, the man started skipping across the street, closing the distance. He was the first to speak. “(Y/n)(L/n), I presume?” You could only nod, which caused him to chuckle for some reason. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you that this guy was bad news --but you couldn't turn away now, not with the information that was on the line. “My name is Izaya Orihara, but judging by the look on your face, I think you've already figured that part out.” He made a short bow and you followed his example.  
“I did,” you stated, auto-pilot taking over. “Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get down to business.”  
Izaya grinned, like he'd expected you to say that. _Damn._ As much as you hated to admit it, you found that stupid little smile of his alluring as hell. “Come now!” he shouted, “We've only just met! How about we get to know each other first?”  
All this beating about the bush was getting on your nerves. It didn't help that his eyes were a distracting shade of brown, so deep you were getting lost in them. You would not allow it to work. It was up to you to get things back on track, it seemed. “How about we have a friendly conversation then, _about the Rider?_ ”  
“You think I'm stalling,” Izaya said, nailing down your suspicions. “Allow me to elaborate. I really do want to get to know you, (Y/n)-chan. I like to know who I'm dealing with, you understand? It's my job, after all,” he persisted. Somehow you didn't quite believe all of that.  
There was no arguing with his explanation, however. This man was an bottomless pit of information, of course he was apprehensive of who he had dealings with. If nothing, his caution was something worth respecting. Defeated, you sighed. “If you insist, why don't we go somewhere a little more private so we can talk?” Wanting to move the situation forward, you took the lead, motioning towards a small cafe nearby. It was perfect; you could just put your bag with the camera on the table and he wouldn't suspect a thing.  
Little did you know, the informant had plans of his own. Izaya perked up at your suggestion. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Some privacy was exactly what he was hoping for --that made his job of winding you around his little finger so much easier.

-*-

Talking to Izaya felt like talking to a mirror. It was strange. At first you started with forced smiles, brushing off his questions or even avoiding to answer them completely. Then there was a click, a connection. You got the impression that he was really trying to befriend you. When you talked about yourself, Izaya would listen intently like he was a life-long friend. He made you feel comfortable. And he was fucking hilarious...and terrible –terribly hilarious.

The most genuine giggle you'd managed in a long time escaped you. “You are absolutely awful, Izaya!” You were on your fifth drink together and the conversation had somehow escalated from casual banter to the most offensive joke telling you'd every experienced. If there was one thing you'd learned about Izaya in the short time you'd spent together, it was that the informant was the god of sarcasm and rapier wit.  
“You're awful for laughing at that, the man was in serious pain.” His face was blank, but the tone of his voice betrayed the playfulness of his statement. The stories this man had to tell were amazing and you could not seem to get enough. He had seen and done so many wonderful things; you almost considered doing a video on his life, but reckoned he would never agree to something like that. Bad for business and all that. This was not all what you had expected when Kanra suggested you meet with him!  
You laughed, raising your glass in a mock-toast. “Well, I suppose we can be atrocious human beings together then.”  
Izaya's eyes narrowed into a sly stare as he gently tapped his empty glass against yours. “To being terrible together!” he announced. There was a short pause as you finished the last of your soda, downing it and placing it back on the table with a soft thud.  
“In all seriousness, we should talk about the Rider, shouldn't we?” you said. The waitress came around and gave you both another serving of drinks with a complimentary bowl of mixed nuts. You nodded at her and smiled before turning your attention back to Izaya. “I assume you know enough about me to trust me now?”  
In an instant, Izaya's playful demeanor from earlier was replaced by a somewhat stern, business-like character. “I do, however,” he said, a smile ever-growing on his face. This smile was different from the others you'd seen, though. It seemed authorative, almost. “...we haven't discussed my payment yet.”  
You blinked. “Payment?” In the heat of the moment, you had all but forgotten about the fact that this was no mere conversation between friends. A painful reminder that this was a business transaction --and nothing more. He wasn't interested in being your friend, he was just assuring his own safety by checking your background.  
Izaya spoke up again, butting into your thoughts. “Of course! You didn't think I'd just _hand you the Rider's head on a silver platter_ , did you? No, no. I expect something in return for my precious information.” You were sure there was an inside joke in there somewhere, because he was laughing like mad. You didn't think it was all that funny. How could you forget? Kanra did tell you he was expensive. Just how much was this going to cost you, and were you willing to pay the price like you said?  
This was your only lead after months of chasing dead ends. Then again, what if he was lying to you? Somehow, you didn't think he would. He'd been honest with you for the most part. Why would he start messing with you now? To hell with it! You had to know everything there was to know about this urban legend. No matter the cost. “Of course, of course,” you repeated. “Fair is fair...So, how much would I owe you?”  
Finally, Izaya had you were he wanted you. By now, you were eating out of the palm of his hand, and he intended to take full advantage of that. The dark-haired man leaned back in his seat, arms spreading wide into a welcoming gesture. “I'm not talking money, (Y/n)-chan! I'm more interested in your services.”  
“My services? You do realize I'm just a girl who makes internet video's right?”  
“I've seen your videos. The things you manage to find out...Phew! I'm impressed. You have the ability to gain access to information I'd love to obtain. I _would_ dig around myself, of course, but...Unfortunately, I'm not trusted in all circles equally. I'm sure you know where I'm going with this.”  
Just be certain you had the right idea, you tried to paraphrase what he'd said as best you could. “So in other words...You want me to obtain information from places you can't get to, in exchange for information on the Rider. Correct?”  
As you spoke, Izaya started nodding, affirming your statement. “Bingo!” He clapped his hands a single time. “For every piece of new intel you bring me, I will reward you by lifting the veil, bit by bit, to reveal the true identity of the Rider.”  
“That's assuming you already know who the Rider is...” The words had tumbled from your lips before you realized what you'd said. He was smiling, no, grinning --like he knew exactly what you were thinking. As you stared into his dark eyes it hit you. _He knew._ Your eyes widened at the realization and Izaya seemed to notice.  
He burst out laughing. “My my! So observant. It seems I have to watch what I say around you! No matter, consider this a freebie: yes, I know the true identity of the Rider. You'll have to work to get more from me, though, my dear.” With a certain amount of practiced flair, Izaya stood up from the booth and offered you a hand. “So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”  
As you took his hand you nodded, but not without adding a comment that came out surprisingly venomous. “You're a bastard, Izaya.”  
“I suppose we can be atrocious human beings together then,” he teased, hitting your own words back at you. You smirked. _Clever, handsome bastard._  
He pulled you towards him, giving you a slight twirl that forced you flush against his chest. Izaya knew he had you pinned. Your heart raced, both from excitement and fear. This was the deal of a life-time, you knew that. But it was also one of the most risky things you'd ever done. The air around him reeked of danger and you loved it. It made you feel...alive. Izaya noticed the flickering in your eyes and chuckled. This was excellent. 

“Ah yes, one more thing,” Izaya started, slightly pushing you back so he could look at you. “How can one person be in more than one place at the same time?”  
Was this a test? If this was some kind of riddle, you were shit out of luck. “How should I know?” you blurted out, shrugging.  
This seemed to satisfy him, oddly enough, because he dropped the matter almost immediatly. “Alright.” Izaya smirked. “I want to meet you again soon to discuss the terms of our agreement.” He produced a card from his back pocket and handed it to you. The card was made from an expensive sort of paper. It was rather simple looking, though. Very professional. All that was on it was a name, an adres and a phone number. “Meet me in my office tomorrow morning, 8AM sharp. Don't be late, (Y/n)-chan! Oh and,” he glanced at your purse on the table, “No filming.”  
“Fuck,” you sighed, recovering the still-recording camera from your bag, “when did you notice?”  
“Here's a little tip for you, my dear: if you want to tape someone without them noticing, you don't put your bag _on the table you're sitting at._ It kind of stands out.”

-*-

Later that evening, Izaya recieved a private message from Bokujin on his Kanra account, thanking him for the opportunity. He grinned. This was sure going to be interesting. The meeting today had not gone quite as he'd expected. At first you were distant, but all he had to do was crack a few crude jokes and you blossomed. Who knew there was a human being around who dared call Izaya 'awful' and manage to laugh about it? You didn't judge or condemn his actions, instead you just sort of snorted and rolled your eyes at them. Even when he told you about that monster, Shizuo, you just laughed. It was strange, and exciting.  
Silently, he watched you mingle with the other guests in the chat room. It seemed like you were making yourself at home in his little world. Now it was just a matter of time before it consumed you.

 _Welcome to Chattico.com!_  
_Please refrain from giving out personal information to the chat._  
_Server: Private_N°05486_  
_\--Bokujin has entered the chatroom--_

**Bokujin: Good evening! Sorry about yesterday, my internet messed up and froze the whole conversation! ^-^”  
Bokujin: I'm Bokujin! It's nice to meet you all! **

**Setton: Nice to meet you too. It's always fun to meet new people. Welcome!**

**Tarō Tanaka: Welcome to the chat, Bokujin!**

**Kanra: Yay~! :D We're going to be fast friends, I can tell!**

**Bokujin: Thank you! I look forward to getting to know you all.**

**Tarō Tanaka: Where are you from?**

**Bokujin: I'm from all over, really. I travel a lot because I solve mysteries for a living. ;) I like in Ikebukuro for the time being.  
Bokujin: *live in, damn autocorrect -_-”**

**Kanra: So coooooooooool~! Are you, like, a detective~?**

**Setton: Really? Where have you been? Do you know anything about Area 51?!**

_\--Bokujin is typing...--_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope you enjoyed the Reader's little chat with Izaya. What do you think? I had some trouble with the dialogue, so all tips and tricks are welcome. 
> 
> Again, a small reminder that I am looking to write more drrr!! Reader-Inserts! Have a character in mind, male or female? Let me know!


End file.
